


Potter and his Twice Damned Hair

by DorthyAnn (JenniferMarie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, M/M, hair obsession or fixation or kink maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:59:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8846029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferMarie/pseuds/DorthyAnn
Summary: Potter and his twice damned hair. Always wild and curling as if mussed by invisible fingers, tugged to bring those shining green eyes closer. Hair that always looked like hands had pushed through, wrapping around his nape, as heads fell back in ecstasy, sweat beading on skin and caught on kiss swollen lips tasting like salt and musk and-Draco smashed his fist against the Slytherin table and before anyone could say anything, dropped his forehead onto the smooth, cool wood with a groan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post.](http://one-last-bow.tumblr.com/post/154166603994/headcanon-that-harrys-messy-hair-sometimes-makes)  
> This story is also posted on [my tumblr](https://dorthyannwrites.tumblr.com/%22).

Potter and his twice damned hair. Always wild and curling as if mussed by invisible fingers, tugged to bring those shining green eyes closer. Hair that always looked like hands had pushed through, wrapping around his nape, as heads fell back in ecstasy, sweat beading on skin and caught on kiss swollen lips tasting like salt and musk and-

Draco smashed his fist against the Slytherin table and before anyone could say anything, dropped his forehead onto the smooth, cool wood with a groan. 

“What's wrong, Draco darling?” Pansy asked, running a comforting hand down his back.

Draco admitted in a grumble, “Potter and his awful hair have ruined my appetite.”

Pansy sighed dramatically and likely rolled her eyes, though he wouldn't look up and give her the satisfaction of seeing her do it. She patted his shoulder, “Have a coffee at least.”

He took the proffered cup and carefully and systematically drown the coffee flavor under a layer of cream and sugar, drinking it sulkily and deliberately not looking at the Gryffindor table.

A week later something strange happened. 

Potter came to breakfast and his hair was... neat. It had some sort of potion worked into it and laid almost flat with only a slight wave to it that look nice rather than ridiculous. Draco couldn't look away. For all his hair normally looked just-shagged, Potter wasn't seeing anyone as far as he knew but if he did his hair- Either he had fixed his hair  _ for _ someone else or someone had fixed it  _ for _ him and- And-

Draco rose from the table, the sounds of the hall drowned out by the static in his head, the pounding in his chest as he crossed the floor. He didn't see the way they turned to look at him. He didn't see the wands drawn by Potter's little minions, all he saw were those green eyes staring at him in shock as he reached out and roughly grabbed Potter's hair.

Draco frowned, his brow furrowing as he frantically messed the black stands. It was too thick, the texture ruined by the hair potion, almost greasy and heavy and awful. 

It was all wrong. 

And the hair that he touched wasn't his to touch. It didn't belong to him. That thought alone pulled Draco out of the fog he had been in and as he blinked in shock, he could hear all the whispers, feel all the stares like a wall of water crashing down on his head.

He turned and left, walking stiffly his head held high as if he hadn't just- hadn't just-

_ Oh Merlin _ , he leaned against the rough, cold wall outside the great hall suddenly feeling faint.

A hand gripped his arm and he tried to jerk away on instinct, sliding his back up against the stone.

“Why did you do that?” Potter panted.

Draco didn't have an answer.

He looked at Potter's ridiculous hair, mussed and looking even more awful than usual as the hair potion had left it sticking straight up and at odd angles. It didn't look right. Of course, it didn't. Not from Draco, never from him. His throat grew tight.

It must have shown on his face because Potter's expression changed, losing its sharpness and becoming confused.

Draco tried to pull away again and slipped from Potter's relaxed grip, backing along the wall until he was far enough away to retreat down the hall, breaking into a run once he was around the corner and not stopping until he reached the Slytherin common room.

He didn't go to classes that day. He stayed on the chaise lounge in front of the largest lake window, watching the shadows of fish and the sway of the seaweed in the green water. His classmates returned and flowed in and out of the common room like a tide. Pansy tried to talk to him, Blaise tried to tease him, he ignored them until they went away.

He skipped dinner as well and was contemplating sleeping where he was so he could even more upset and unhappy in the morning when some random firsty came up and fidgeted in the corner of his eye until he snapped, “What?!”

“Um, H-Harry Potter is outside and asked for you.” The little turd stuttered.

Draco waved the child away and crossing his arms and sinking down further in the chair, his robes riding up around his face.

Pansy stomped behind his chair, he knew her stomp by heart, and snapped, “Enough of this! You'll get up and talk to Potter right now or I'll stun you and dump you out there on your head, Draco Malfoy!”

Draco had barely pushed himself up to look over at her, and her wand was drawn, when she grabbed his arm and pulled him after her. 

She shoved him through the entrance to their common room in front of her with a perfunctory, “I sent him the hair potion, I thought it would make you happy, you stupid boy.” The stone entrance slamming shut behind him and leaving Draco face to face with Potter.

Potter was wearing muggle clothes, jeans and baggy red sweater with an obnoxiously large H emblazoned on the front. His hair looked like it was still half damp from a shower, but still fighting against gravity to achieve maximum wildness. Potter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and then pushed his hand through his hair, sending a wave of intense jealousy roiling through Draco's gut. 

Draco felt like he should just go right back into the common room. Potter wasn't seeing anyone, the hair thing was from Pansy, crisis averted; but he stayed rooted to the spot, watching Potter be ridiculous.

Potter looked down at his feet, scuffing his trainers against the stone, “I, err, couldn't figure out what this morning was about, it was driving me a bit spare and, so Hermione kicked me out of the common room and said I could stay out until it stopped being, um, insufferable.”

Draco stared at him, somewhat fascinated to see how his silence made Potter uncomfortable.

“I just want to know why you did it? With my hair?” Potter went on and ran his hand through his hair again.

Draco wasn't even aware of his hand moving, shooting out and grabbing Potter's bony wrist and pulling it away from his mess of hair. “Stop that,” He meant to snap but it came out too soft.

Potter's brow furrowed, “You hate when my hair's a mess but then when I fix it you mess it up? I just don't get it, Malfoy.”

Draco could feel the heat radiating out from Potter's wrist, “That was...”

“What?” Potter's frown deepen and he clasped his other hand on Draco's wrist, linking them together, “Explain.”

He looked down at their hands, if they crossed their wrists and Potter grabbed Draco's other hand it would form a wedding knot. Draco's startled at his own thought, heat flushing up his neck and into his cheeks.

“What?” Potter's voice was quieter and when Draco jerked his head up he saw Potter's expression was softer as well. He looked almost nervous. 

Potter's grip was loose enough now that he could easily pull away. He wondered if Potter even knew what a wizarding wedding knot was. Probably not, no. He shivered, his mind moving erratically, jumping from idea to idea as if afraid to settle.

Draco's free hand reached out toward Potter's hair. Potter twitched back and Draco froze suddenly aware of what he was doing.

Potter stared at him, his eyes narrowing and then he stepped slightly forward. His fingers slid into the black strands of hair and Draco's busy, frantic mind went silent. 

Potter's hair was thick and smooth. He let his hand slide deeper along Potter's scalp, the hair still damp and heavy at the roots. Draco slowly pulled his fingers through, looking with fascination at the way Potter's hair stubbornly curled this way and that and then fell just as wildly. Draco slid his hand into again and again and when Potter's grip loosened and let go of his other hand, Draco brought them both up, to sweep through the silken mess.

And at some point, Potter's back was pressed against the wall and they were close enough together that every line of their bodies met. When Draco looked down, Potter's eyes had closed, his whole face was relaxed and he was smiling. That smile only grew as he opened his eyes and looked up at Draco.

The breath caught in Draco's chest and the only words he had left in him was, “Only me,” he slipped his hand around the back of Potter's head and brushed the nape of his neck.

“Alright.” Potter said with a sleepy contentment, his hand reaching up to cup the back of Draco's hand, “As long as you never stop.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are always very much loved and appreciated! Thank you for reading!


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